A Peculiar Journey
My eyes are closed. Or maybe they are open. The darkness is too solid to let me focus on such a trivial detail.
I am walking, however. I can tell that because I am moving. I am walking through solid shadows that dissolve through me.
I don’t know why I am here. Why would such a thing even cross my mind?
Only one thing mattered – I have to walk on. I just know it. If I don’t do so, I will die. Or am I already dead? That doesn’t matter. Not really.
There is a lane forming as I pass shadow after shadow. Yes, a lane is definitely forming, a greyish sort of lane like molten concrete. I don’t sink in it though. In fact, I solidify it as I walk on it. Yes, that is what I am supposed to be doing. Walking. Nothing else.
A dot appears in the distance, a dot that grows and grows as I walk and walk. I am walking towards it. Why is it in the middle of my walking lane? Isn’t walking my destination? Then why is an obstacle seeming like a destination in the distance?
It bothers me. Why is it bothering me?
I shouldn’t think about it. I have to just walk past it.
Whatever it is.
What is it though?
Does it matter?
Just concentrate on the walking – you know that is the right thing to do.
I know it is the right thing, but do I feel like it’s the right thing?
I have gone crazy.
How can let such thoughts come to me even? How can I question my walking? How can I question my purpose?
It is coming closer to me, the obstacle, or maybe I am growing closer to it. Does it matter?
It is beautiful though. It is not a circle anymore. It is not a square nor a triangle nor a rectangle nor a hexagon. It isn’t any shape like that, but it has an outline – a distinct, beautiful outline, like scratches against the solid, lead sky, scratches that stem from the ground and stretch upwards and outwards where they end in the sky.
I draw nearer to it with each passing second second. I want to look at it more closely. I want to understand it. Why is it the way it is? What is it? Who put it in my way? Is it in my way?
Why am I having these questions?
Wasn’t walking the only thing I had to do?
Why?
Why should I walk?
I stop walking.
I stand under the tower. It has small, stretched, oval-like structures at end of each of its scratches.
The tower is not dark like everything else around me. It is other than black or grey. Is there something other than black or grey?
How is that even possible?
The ovals at the end are bright. The stem though, is dull, and something like black – but not black.
Am I going crazy?
Is this tower in front of me just my imagination?
I take a deep breath.
I guess that means I am alive then.
I shake away the thought, and stretch out my hand. I touch the stem of the tower. It feels rough against my hands. The lines on the stem seem to rub against the ones on my palm.
I can’t pull my hand away. Instead, I run it over the surface and around it.
And suddenly it hits me, that even though the tower is not a circle, its stem is circular. I am in awe. How does this tower even exist?
I notice something on the ends of the scratches that is not the oval shaped structures. They stand out against the tower like frozen balls of blood. My stomach grumbles. Or maybe it is my heart that is burning in desire. I know that I want it.
I stretch out my hand and pull one off. It breaks off quite easily from the tower, and I hold it in my hand.
I sit under the tower. “Who needs to walk?”, I think, as I take a bite from the frozen blood-ball.
What should I call it? It is so delicious, I think as I take another bite. It needs to have a name.
Apfel.
That is the sound I hear when I eat it.
Ap-fel.
Apple.
I look at the magnificent thing in my hand, and smile a little, as I realize that from now on, I have my own apple tower.
